


That's When You Know

by Rosie2009



Series: Descendants Fanfiction [4]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), Disney - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23672671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie2009/pseuds/Rosie2009
Summary: A short sister/best friend drabble thingy with Mal and Evie told from Mal's POV. Slight mentions of Harry Hook x Mal, but nothing major.
Relationships: Evie & Mal (Disney), Harry Hook/Mal
Series: Descendants Fanfiction [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1252532
Kudos: 12





	That's When You Know

Have you ever had someone look at you like you personally hung the moon? And I don’t even mean in a romantic sort of way. I’m talking about a completely platonic moment between two girls that teeter that odd edge between allies and friends.

I’m going to assume you went with no, or at least that you wanted to hear my account of this situation.

So, let me set the scene for you. One girl has tears streaming down her face, her whole self a mess of sniveling, sobbing emotion, and the other one is sitting there looking like a complete idiot as she tries to find something intelligent and hopefully reassuring to say.

Fantastic. Just freaking fantastic.

But the most insane part of it all? She’s looking at you like you’re the only one that can make it all okay. The only one that can take all of the pain away. And the amount of faith in those brown eyes is amazing. What’s most amazing is that all of that trust is put in you. She believes in you. Not anyone else here. Only you.

And so, because you don’t want to let your only female friend in the world down, you try. You pull her close, despite your own secret fear of letting people near especially physically so, and you try to comfort her. She gasps but wastes no time in clinging on to you as if you’re about to disappear into thin air.

She likely thinks that you will. She’s surprised because you never do this. You never actually hug and do all of those things that she seems right at home doing and always seems to want you to do.

You suck at this, and it’s a terrible hug, but you’re trying the best you can. You don’t feel like it’s enough, but she obviously feels it is if her snuggling closer is anything to go by.

You’ve wanted a friend for as long as you can remember. You’re desperate not to screw this up, but you have no idea what you’re doing, and you’re so, so, _so_ terrified that you’re going to do something wrong.

This is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. This hug. This person. It’s not the feel of romantic love--- you’ve felt that before, and that is an entirely different appeal. One that brings thoughts of hooks and stolen kisses under the radar.

But this… You feel a warmth in your chest, not the flutter of attraction like with the guy of your secret dreams or whatever, but instead a genuine warmth of the purest emotion. This is the feel of simply someone trusting you in a place like this that’s full of untrustworthy people. Choosing you out of everyone else she knows and over someone she’s known for much longer and that you originally thought she liked better than you.

“Why doesn’t she love me?” a broken-hearted whisper is choked out somewhere around your ear. You swallow hard, feeling the blow of those words deep in your heart--- after all, you’ve got mommy issues, too--- but you push back your initial desire to cry.

“I don’t know,” you lamely reply, not having any idea how to answer but certainly trying to help.

“Do you… do you like me?” the small voice speaks up, and before you know it, a lump’s risen in your throat because you cannot stand to see her so heartbroken. She’s supposed to be the gleaming ray of sunshine in the group.

“Of course. You know I do,” you say, your voice cracking in the middle of it, and you wince because that was _not_ what you intended to happen.

You can’t afford to show your heart like this in this place, but you do. You do it for her because you know she needs you right now. She needs you to be vulnerable. To be vulnerable like she is.

“You do?” It is asked somewhat suspiciously and exceedingly desperately, like she really cannot believe that you really do care about her. But what she doesn’t realize is that she is so easy to care about. She’s the most compassionate, loving, and, dare you say it, _good_ soul that you’ve seen on this wicked island.

“I do,” you simply tell her, scared to go in more depth because you’re afraid of your own feelings of fondness toward this person. Everyone that you’ve ever allowed yourself to let in and to get close to you has been taken away.

Your first best friend. Your crush and boyfriend--- maybe? that part is often unclear in the translation of things. The only reason you’ve managed to keep your male friends around is because you punch them in the shoulder and hold them at a distance.

But this sniveling ball of hopelessness? It’s pressed so tightly against you that you think you might suffocate.

So, you hold this… friend? You hope it is a friend. If it turns out to be an enemy, then you are completely screwed. But you know her better than that. You know that she’s different than the rest. She won’t turn on you, despite your mother and her mother’s shared history and even you two’s own shared history.

“Thank you, Mal.”

It’s heartfelt. It’s genuine. It’s purer gratitude than you ever thought you deserved, but it’s meant for you and you alone somehow.

You even dare to think that maybe you’ve found a true friend in life finally. One that is a girl and that can understand you on levels that the guy friends that populate your life cannot. One that will, hopefully, stay there with you and hold you tight, too, should you ever need it.

You don’t dare think the other word that starts with an s, ends with an r, and has i-s-t-e in the middle. You want that, but you know that’s going way too far out. That’s creepy territory. No one wants unnecessary family over here, despite what you yourself feel and want.

You feel so pathetic. Wanting a… one of those. So what if you’d like someone to talk to about everything? So what if you want someone that will hold you and love you and give you all of the affection that your own mother won’t even provide?

You don’t deserve it anyway. You’re not good enough. You haven’t even earned your full name because you’re so unworthy.

“You’re the best,” she speaks, and you suddenly feel your breath catch as she says something to you that you’ve never heard uttered before in your life. Something that causes you to immediately realize one simple fact.

She thinks you’re deserving. She thinks you’re good enough. She thinks you’re worthy.

She’s the first person to ever feel that you matter and moreover the first person to ever tell you. But that’s what sisters do, and that thought alone hits you hard in a craving for familial love and attention.

And that’s when you feel the oddest feeling in the world. When you know that you’ve fell in too deep and you’re now going to be endlessly looking for this sister figure in none other than her.

That’s when _I_ knew that _I_ wanted Genevieve Catarina Queen, daughter of the Evil Queen Grimhilde, to be _my_ sister.


End file.
